


Joie de Vivre

by AeeDee



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Angst, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 14:17:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeeDee/pseuds/AeeDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/yj_anon_meme/">YJ anon meme</a> prompt, inspired from the popular YJ Twitter RP, this conversation <a href="http://yjtwitter.tumblr.com/post/2977436361/">here</a>. The details of Dick's meeting with Roy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joie de Vivre

**Author's Note:**

> For the unfamiliar, the premise of the situation is from season 1 of YJ. Roy is feeling bitter and stressed about the League's decision (among other things), and he isolates himself from his friends. Dick volunteers himself to come over and talk things out. This pairing wasn't endgame in the twitter RP, but I wanted to explore the possibility.

He knew it wasn’t pity. He knew that. He just felt like saying something mean. He just felt like saying something out of spite, and making it hurt a little.

He didn’t know why. It was an instant reaction, like when someone hits you, and you hit back. Except he wasn’t being attacked; not at all. He was being given a compliment, told something genuinely nice and kind, and he reciprocated like an asshole.

He didn’t know why. That’s what really drove him mad. He _did not_ fucking know why.

He didn’t want to see him; that he knew for certain. He wanted to be alone. To sit alone and rot; to dwell and linger on this horrible feeling, to let it consume and burn him up a little more.

There was something reassuring about his anger. It had no real target, so it would never reach its destination. It would never dissolve. It would drive him, compel him, push him forward. He didn’t mind being angry at the world. The world needed its ass kicked in. He would be the man to do that. Proudly.

But then… there was Robin. And whenever he’d come around, there was that flutter inside his chest and the spark of warmth and solace and comfort. An accidental smile on his face would sometimes appear when the boy’s laughter filled the room. His laughter was something beautiful; made of happiness and excitement, the _joie de vivre_ that defined him. Robin didn’t know what it felt like to be motivated by hatred and frustration; he was happy, genuinely excited about the potential in being alive.

Roy had never understood what made Robin like that. He’d seen his parents die in front of him, he’d nearly met his end countless times, and he’d been insulted and pushed around. His life was rough, and it just got harder; but Robin just kept laughing. He just. Kept. Laughing. He just kept smiling, and telling jokes and being the best friend anyone could ask for. The kind of friend that would take a direct insult to his face, and respond with surprising wisdom and tolerance he had no reason to give.

Roy accused him of not being a genuine friend. Robin took that insult to his character, and responded with that familiar tolerance, patience; and comfort. Comfort, to an asshole that didn’t deserve it.

Why…

He didn’t want him to come over. He just wanted to be alone. To sit alone, and rot. To dwell, and linger, and curse at himself until he started to feel tired enough to sleep and pretend this day, like so many others, didn’t even happen.

But more than anything, he wanted the luxury of being mean, cruel and harsh, without the guilt of doing it to someone that was so generous. He hated it whenever Robin came around, because Robin would always become a target. He’d get too close, he’d push too hard, he’d say something too personal. He’d push a button without knowing where it was.

And more than anything, Roy hated to say these cold-hearted things to _him_. A question like, “Because you genuinely want to be my friend, or because you pity me?”

Roy knew it wasn’t pity. He _knew_ it wasn’t pity. But he was still the asshole that said it, anyway. And he genuinely, honestly didn’t understand why.

-

When the doorbell rings, Roy shivers. But he keeps his expression neutral, as he opens the door. But thank God; it’s just the delivery guy.

He hands him a twenty, tells him to keep the change. It’s a generous tip, but he doesn’t care. He might as well make someone’s day a little better.

He closes the door, and the room fills with silence. Not a single sound, save for the silent murmuring of the air conditioning humming through the walls. He walks across the room, and to the dining table, sitting the box down. He takes a seat there, right where he was, in a chair that’s stiff and uncomfortable; but it was cheap, so. He knows that’s a contradiction, given that he’s the kind of man to overspend on something like pizza; which he eats a lot of. Too much, really. He likes to tell others it’s for his friends, but… well. That’s just a convenient lie.

Everyone knows he only has a small precious few of those, anyway. He has no secret social life. Not right now. Right now he has nothing, save for those few kind souls that still put up with his shit. And one day, they will tire of it. One day…

The doorbell.

He doesn’t react the way he thought he would. He never knew exactly what he’d feel when he opened that door. Sometimes he felt nauseated. Sometimes he felt ashamed. Sometimes he felt, even, _excited_. Today, it’s a curious blend of those three, he’s unsteady but he’s cautiously eager. He can’t deny the feeling that comes over him when he sees that boy standing in the doorway, staring up at him with his signature sunglasses and a broad smile on his face. The trembling in his chest. The dancing in his stomach. The tension in his throat.

“Hey,” he manages.

“Hi,” the chipper reply, as Robin invites himself right in, rushing past him with boundless energy. In fact, he’s practically making a full speed run towards the pizza box on the table. He comes to a full stop beside it, and lifts the lid, asking, “Can I have some?” even as the answer is plainly obvious.

“Yeah, course,” Roy says, as he pushes the door shut. It clicks into place, and he turns back to see Robin taking a seat at the table, eagerly grabbing a slice with his hands. He’s quick to dive right in, biting into it as Roy makes his way over to the table.

Normally he’d be surprised; but this isn’t the first time he’s seen Robin come in and act like he owns the place. Even if he doesn’t come by as often as he used to, when he does, he acts like he lives here.

But Roy doesn’t mind. 

Once he takes a seat, he reaches over and lifts a slice for himself, with a cautious eye on Robin. The kid is really strange when he eats; he attacks food like a mouse, a rare breed that’s both furious and starving with every fast, violent bite.

“What,” the kid asks. He knows he’s being watched; somehow he can always tell.

“Hm,” Roy murmurs, as he averts his eyes down to the box.

“ _What_ ,” Robin repeats.

“Do you have to wear the sunglasses,” Roy distracts him with a sure-fire red herring. Because _I’m just watching you_ , would be a touch too personal.

“I _told_ you,” Robin whines, as he chews through the last of the slice, before grabbing another, “Identity, you know.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Roy frowns at him. “Just seems stupid.”

“Well _you_ seem stupid,” Robin sticks his tongue out at him.

“I am _not_ ,” Roy acts offended. But he knows better than to feel it; Robin’s used that joke before. He tends to reflect with silly comments when he’s annoyed at his remarks or complaints; of which there are many.

Even so, Robin apologizes, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean that,” with a small grin.

“I know.”

“I just… You know, I’ve told you a million times,” Robin says it with an annoyance in his tone; but it's that patience, that damn patience again, “Batman says-”

“Do you do everything he tells you?” Roy asks him, point-blank.

“Well-” Robin stares at him blankly, his voice caught in his throat. When he speaks, it’s uncertain and his voice is small and faint, “Yeah.” But he finds some confidence to answer the rest, “I mean, I get it. I know he’s just trying to protect me-”

“At the expense of your personal freedom.”

“Maybe,” as he hesitantly resumes eating his new slice.

Roy tries to distract himself with something else. Normally he’d dig right into that, that topic of all things, but he’s already feeling like too much of a jerk to keep going with it. Robin knows what he thinks; he knows how he feels. At this point, he would just become an irritant-

“What was up with you earlier, anyway?”

“I’d rather not go into it,” the truth; because there is no nice way to say it.

“But man, you-”

“I’d rather not,” he tries again.

“Hm,” Robin sighs at him, as he takes another bite and murmurs, “Okay.”

He’d bring it up again later. Roy knew he would. That kid was never that easy to shut down.

But by then, hopefully, he’d have a more adequate excuse.

-

Sometimes he wanted to indulge Robin’s curiosity. Sometimes, he wanted to tell him every detail of his sorrows, every reason why he was frustrated, every moment he’d hated, everything he regretted, every single memory that made him so.. the way he was. _Whatever_ he was.

But most of the time, it’s easier to stay guarded. It’s easier to bury the darker things. It’s easier to pretend that he’s just angry on the surface, and that’s he’s not feeling betrayed and offended and upset and bothered and saddened and disappointed and-

In one instant, when he witnessed the sudden death of his dream. That’s what made him feel so pissed off. That’s why he can’t forgive Oliver. That’s why he can’t forgive the League. But that problem is uniquely his own; these kids are happy enough to be in the company of their heroes. Why shouldn’t they be? Anyone would appreciate the opportunity. He’s just being a spoiled brat. He’s just the arrogant asshole that thought he deserved better.

He got his hopes up high; and they were crushed, just like that. His mentor had no backbone. His friends gave no support. Robin is here to console him now, but can he even understand that- How could he…

How could he ever know that feeling, of standing completely alone.

It shouldn’t have been this way. It should have never _had_ to be this way. And God help him, when he said he was leaving, he never expected them to just _let_ him leave. He never thought he’d physically be able to walk out of there with no one following in his steps. No one. Not a soul.

He’d never lived alone before. He didn’t really intend to, it just… happened that way. And when he moved himself in, hastily unpacking the two boxes of everything he owned, he’d never felt so-

Robin is button-mashing down on the controller, giggling at the screen as explosions scatter across it, and Roy throws up his hands in defeat as his screen avatar falls to a bloody death. Giant letters appear, _KO_ -

He’d never felt so awful.

“Tie breaker,” Robin decides for the both of them, as he reaches over and pushes the START button on Roy’s controller. But Roy doesn’t feel like playing anymore. He glances up at the screen, as the Character Select menu loads up, and the familiar battle tune starts playing in all its hackneyed rock and roll glory.

He just… stares at it. And he’s remembering how he felt, when he fired up this machine for the first time. He was sitting right here on the floor, eager to play through his rage. But the more he played, the angrier he felt. And each day when he’d come home from his solo patrol, he’d play some more, and lose just a bit more sleep, and wake up the next day, exhausted but forcing himself to try it again, hoping that maybe that time, he’d feel just a little better, that maybe-

Before he realizes it, Robin’s staring at him. Not subtly; directly. Absolutely staring at him, his entire body physically turned in his direction.

Roy looks over at him, not wanting to acknowledge whatever it is that he’s noticing.

“What’s with you?” Robin asks, setting down the controller.

“Nothing,” a hasty reply. A blatant lie; but in a way, he wanted Robin to know that. He wanted him to realize that he was covering up a genuine wound. He wanted him to realize there was more to this, more to _him_ , even if he had no possible way of adequately addressing the subject.

“No, seriously,” Robin tries again, shuffling forward slightly, crawling onto his knees as he perches down beside him. He’s trying to give him an earnest expression, but it’s at times like these that those sunglasses mask a great deal of what he’s trying to convey.

Roy just shakes his head, “Nothing,” he starts to idly sort through the character icons, glittering beep noises emanating from the television.

“Stop lying,” Robin complains.

Roy just sighs a little, a slow exhale of breath.

Robin lets out a sound that’s half between a murmur and sigh, as he leans forward, and slides his delicate hand over Roy’s controller. Grabbing hold of it firmly, he slowly tugs on it; Roy feels the resistance and he relaxes his fingers, allowing it to slide out of their grasp as Robin pulls it away.

“Talk to me,” Robin tries again.

Roy just shrugs, as he looks at the screen. It remains fixed on an icon of a grinning character, jumping up in a boxing pose. “You know, I hate this guy,” he lazily points at it.

“ _Roy_ ,” Robin scolds him.

“What, _Robin_ ,” he taunts. “Oh I’m sorry, that’s not your real name.”

“Oh,” Robin replies with a sound. Just that sound. “I…”

“Lemme guess, is it…” He knows he should stop, but he can’t. He needs to stop. If he’s a decent man at all, he’ll stop. “Rudy? Rick? Reeve…”

“Come on,” Robin protests.

“Ronald, Ray… Raiden…”

“Raiden?” Robin snickers.

“I was running out of Rs.”

“What about something classy, like Redford?”

“What, like the actor,” Roy gives him a sarcastic look. “Have you even seen his movies?”

“Yes,” he crosses his arms, “Batman and I watch a lot of oldies.”

“So he _does_ do something fun,” he says sarcastically.

“Hey, he’s not all gloom and doom-”

“Mm,” Roy acknowledges. But he’s not terribly interested. He’s too preoccupied with how rude his earlier comment was. He had no right to say that. None. It’s Robin’s life, and it’s his choice-

“My name is Dick,” he says in a small voice.

“What,” Roy looks at him with some alarm; from surprise, more so than anything else.

“Dick,” Robin shrugs. “You know, like Richard or something.”

“Or something,” Roy snickers a little.

“Hey,” Robin pouts, “I can’t be _that_ forward.”

“Can I call you Richard,” Roy teases.

“No, call me _Robin_ ,” he protests.

“That’s not fair,” Roy says and he sits back, propping himself up with his arms. “If you’re gonna call me Roy…”

“But I like the name Roy,” he says in a tiny voice.

“What if I like the name _Richard_.”

“I- I don’t know,” he frowns to himself, “I…’ve never been a Richard before.”

“Hmm,” Roy thinks out loud. “I guess Dick is alright, then.”

“What,” he half-laughs.

“I’ll accept it.”

“Okay,” Dick laughs softly. “But seriously,” he leans in for emphasis, as if he’s glaring at him. But…

“Take the glasses off.”

“What?” Dick freezes up. Looks like he was crossing a line.

“The glasses,” Roy reaches out, a steady hand towards his face.

Instinctively, the boy pulls back suddenly, recoiling away.

“Seriously?” Roy asks, somewhat stunned. He’d expected a reaction, but nothing that blatant. Nothing that genuine. “I was just kidding,” he lies, as he withdraws his arm back to its previous position, his hand pressed firmly against the carpet floor. He resumes looking at the screen. He stares blankly, his thoughts disorganized and strangely incoherent.

“Sorry,” Dick murmurs quietly.

“It's okay,” Roy tells him, as he continues staring at the dancing pixels on the television.

But Dick’s staring at him intently, as if he’s still bothered about something. Something more serious.

“Why are you breathing like that,” he suddenly asks.

“What,” Roy frowns, but at nothing in particular.

“You’re breathing really fast. It’s weird.”

Frowning, Roy starts to notice what he’s talking about. He hadn’t noticed, but his pulse feels erratic… But instead of responding, he takes a deep breath, exhales it and shrugs it off. “I don’t know,” he says, “Stress.”

“Why are you stressed?”

“I don’t know,” suddenly his eyes feel quite a bit heavier.

“You wanna play something else?” Dick suggests.

“I don’t know,” but it’s getting harder to speak.

“You wanna do something else?” Dick tries again.

“I-I don’t know,” it’s definitely getting more difficult now. He can feel his throat tightening, against his will. It’s just closing up. It’s just-

“We should talk, then,” as Dick inches forward, sliding over to close some of the last of the space between them. His closest knee almost touches Roy’s leg. And his face, with that intent look, feels even closer and more serious than it did before.

Roy tries to speak, but he can’t force it out; so he bites on his lip instead. And without warning, he’s frowning again, as if he can’t even control it. His face is doing something. It’s doing something without his control-

When Roy accidentally allows a sob to escape, Dick’s entire body freezes up. Immediately, Roy feels the regret wash through him, as he hastily raises his hands to his face, his fingertips applying pressure around his eyes, as if that’ll stop the inevitable tears. But he cries in silence, his body shaking, his arms trembling as he gradually leans forward. He’s burying his face in his hands, elbows perched against his bent legs. And Dick, he…

He doesn’t know what to do. Not completely. He knew Roy had too much on his plate, but this…

It’s left him speechless.

He reaches out hesitantly, a hand on Roy’s back, as he tries to imagine what he should do. He uses that hand to run it across Roy’s back, traveling in a slow and steady path up, and down again, up, and down again-

Even after the initial sobs are over, Roy can’t stop crying. His body just refuses to stop, no matter how strongly he wills it. He’s humiliated and ashamed, but even that’s not enough. It’s not enough to be upset and horrified. He can’t stop.

Dick starts to realize that what he’s doing isn’t enough, so he sits himself up more, and lifts his arms in a loose embrace around Roy's shoulders. It’s clumsy and awkward, but Roy seems to catch his intention clearly enough; once he drops his hands and relaxes just slightly, Dick’s able to get a much closer hold on him. And he pulls him in with a small sigh. Roy finds himself leaning into those small arms, pressed against his small body. And when he happens to glance at Dick he realizes how close they are, and how _well_ Dick can definitely see him and every tear that’s falling, and he closes his eyes in shame.

“Shh,” Dick employs another strategy, “It’s okay,” as he lifts a hand up to Roy’s face, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No,” Roy murmurs, which only seems to make him cry harder, as he chokes back whatever sound was about to escape.

“Yes it will,” Dick says, as he continues to run his fingers through, parting stray strands, as he leans his face in a little closer and pauses. He stops completely, as if a thought had suddenly crashed into his brain. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but decides against it. And when he closes it back, he looks away with a slight grimace at the edge of his lips, before he clumsily reaches up and pulls his glasses off.

At first, Roy doesn’t notice. Dick continues to run that hand through his hair, and down to the base of his neck before traveling it back up again. When Roy finally glances at him, he stops accordingly, taking in the new image of Dick’s naked face with calm eyes. Swollen and flushed, but calm eyes that are more relieved than frustrated for the first time in a great while.

And they stare at each other, as Roy gradually slows his breathing, and Dick allows his fingers to drift lazily across Roy’s face, fingers lingering just above his eyes, his own breath erratic, his own heart rate jumping up, his face flushed-

Roy doesn’t think, when he leans in towards him. He just moves, leaning in across the small distance between them, pressing his lips against his friend's in a gentle sort of contact, like he’s both uncertain and desperate; uncertain and almost afraid. And after that delicate touch, he pulls back and they continue that unbroken stare at each other, as if they’re both terrified and too scared to voice it.

Dick doesn’t respond; he just resumes combing through his hair, as Roy finds his eyes closing in a unique mixture of shame and exhaustion. Dick sits himself up onto his legs and kisses his forehead with a small joke, “You’re cute, Roy.” He sits back, wedging a space between them for the first time in several minutes.

“So are you,” Roy murmurs. He wishes he could smile to keep the joke going, but it seems like a lost endeavor; it’d just be a waste of time.

God, his brain is such a mess. It’s such a damn mess right now.

“So,” Dick stretches his arms out as he gets himself comfortable again, those safe inches away. “Mind telling me what’s wrong with you?”

Roy gives him a weary look, and says honestly, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Look,” Dick’s tone gets a tad more forceful, “I know you’re mad at Ollie. Okay?”

“You think that’s it-”

“And okay, maybe us too. I don’t know,” Dick whines. “I really don’t, and I want to.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say that?” Dick frowns at him; but this time, sans glasses, Roy’s able to notice just how serious he looks, his eyes dark and heavy.

Roy doesn’t respond.

“Didn’t you just… _kiss_ me?”

Roy freezes up as he feels his breath catch in his throat again; and his heart skips, like he’s just been shot. “I-I guess so.”

“You don’t know why that happened?”

“I-” he shakes his head. He has an idea, but…

“You’ve gotta get it together,” Dick leans in, putting a hand on his leg.

Roy’s eyes drift to it immediately, as he wonders what that’s for.

“You’re _not_ okay,” Dick tells him.

Roy just nods.

“So what’s going on?”

Roy closes his eyes, and sighs.

“Really, what-”

Roy reaches out, and takes his hand, his fingers curling around his small palm as he lifts it from the ground and holds it, almost delicately.

“Roy…” Dick’s voice is frail and quiet.

“Can you just-” Roy bows his head, and suddenly decides against asking. “Nothing,” with a single shake. “Nevermind.”

Dick stares at him with an apparent confusion. But he doesn’t pull his hand back. He doesn’t even move. He parts his lips, but there’s no sound escaping. He can’t physically manage it.

Roy’s staring at the screen again, as starts to feel his eyes tensing up again. He frowns in disgust at himself and he pulls back his hand angrily; he stares forward, staring in hatred at nothing in particular.

“Goddammit,” Dick suddenly says.

Roy sends him a curious look.

“Talk to me,” he commands him.

Roy stares ahead again.

“Talk to me,” Dick pleads, his voice tense and sharp, “ _Fuck_.”

“Relax,” Roy says.

“Fuck you,” Dick spits it out, “Telling me to relax. Y-you’re the- Look at you!”

“What about me,” he growls.

“You look like shit,” he hisses.

For once, Roy lacks a comeback. His jaw falls slack, and he gradually tenses it back as his eyes wander to some undefined spot across the room.

“N..” Dick wants to speak, but he’s feeling too many things at once. He rests his face against one of his hands, and says quietly, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Dick sits up again and shuffles around, as if he’s uncomfortable. He doesn’t move any closer, but he does re-position his legs, crossing them hesitantly. “You’re fine.”

“Don’t lie,” Roy murmurs, with a slight grin.

“No, I mean it,” Dick sighs at himself, “You always look great anyway.”

Roy laughs; a single rude, sudden laugh that catches them both off-guard. But instead of fading into a smile, the laugh morphs into a grimace, which seems to be withholding another cry of anguish; some other spark of sadness.

“No, come on,” as Dick lifts a hand again, and starts to trace it along Roy’s nearest arm. Roy’s frowning at himself, and Dick suddenly feels a strange desperation, his face contorting into a sudden anxiety, “It’s okay, baby.”

Dick says it so faintly, that neither of them are sure of what he said. Not at first. Roy’s carefully still, as the kid himself appears to be in a sort of awe, as if it was someone else’s voice leaving his body. But despite that, his hand doesn’t stop moving; as stunned as his face is, he continues to stroke his arm, and if anything, he presses in a little deeper.

And Roy finally says, “Thanks.”

“For what?” Dick’s voice is almost scared.

“Being here.”

“It’s okay, I…” he sighs, “I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“I didn’t either.”

And then, silence. Silence falls between them.

But it’s a thoughtful lack of words, as they’re both dwelling in their own thoughts, regretting certain actions and dizzying themselves with faint hopes and curiosities.

Dick moves closer to Roy, sitting so close that their legs _are_ touching this time, and when he extends an arm around Roy’s shoulders, he indulges him. Roy stretches out his legs and shifts his body back, sliding down to rest his face against the boy’s chest, as Dick winds his delicate but strong arms around him. Roy supports some of his weight with a single arm around his back, but it’s unnecessary. Dick can hold him up just fine.

And they settle in, thinking and breathing slowly in that fragile silence, as Dick trails his fingers through Roy’s hair, his face sensitive against the rough and sharp texture of each strand, as he breathes in and catches its faint scent.

Roy’s eyes are closing. His body is gradually becoming heavier. And when Dick glances down, only slightly, he notices that he’s growing more idle, more relaxed, as if he’s losing consciousness. And he considers letting him sleep here, to rest for a while, but-

“What happened to you, Roy,” in a soft murmur.

He didn’t expect a response. He thought he was too far out.

But there it was.

“Stress.”

“From the League,” he tightens his hold on him.

“From everything,” he says.

Dick sighs, and closes his eyes, “Poor baby.”

And wisely, Roy chooses not to comment on that. He remains still, and settles in. Together, they remain quiet and still.

-

When they wake up, they’re a sprawled mess on the floor. Dick’s hand is in Roy’s face, his hair is disheveled, and one of his legs is propped beneath half of his body. _Awkward_ wouldn’t begin to cover it.

When Roy sits up, he immediately hears Dick stirring, and the boy pulls his arm back and looks at him questionably, as if confused.

“Fell asleep,” Roy says, his voice a tired murmur.

“Oh,” which becomes a yawn, as Dick sits up as well.

But when they look at each other-

Dick laughs and reaches a hand up, to smooth down the scattered and disorganized edges of Roy’s hair. “It got so crazy-”

“Yeah,” but the way Roy’s looking at him, with that incredible sense of calm-

Roy even closes his eyes, as if in peace as Dick continues to massage his hair; and when his hand comes to a complete stop on his neck, Roy remains still, breathing slowly and deeply as Dick inches closer to him, leaning in and startling him with a kiss as Roy’s eyes open suddenly.

But he’s not looking at him in fear, or anxiety anymore. This is something more intent. Something more balanced and normal as Roy kisses him back, this time allowing his tongue to dart out and graze the corner of his mouth, just to see what will happen. And when Dick parts his lips and licks him back, their tongues meeting somewhere in the middle as their mouths are slowly crushed together, Dick winds his arms around him, this time like a lover, fingers clinging to his back as if for dear life as Roy places his hands around his slender waist, holding him still and in place.

And in between a breathy kiss, Dick murmurs, “So tell me what’s wrong,” before he moves in again, kissing him loudly and pulling back in time for Roy to question, “Right now,” as their lips meet again, merging with wet spit and tongues and-

Dick pulls his tongue back into his mouth, “Yes,” and Roy slides his in to chase it. And when their lips close again he murmurs, “I told you already,” before Dick kisses him again and pulls back, “No you didn’t,” and Roy licks his lips teasingly, “I did. Stress,” with a nod, as Dick moves on, kissing his neck with a series of fast, hyper kisses that make Roy tense and gasp for breath.

“You _like_ that,” Dick murmurs shyly, as Roy frowns at him, even if he can’t see it. “Yeah,” he murmurs, bowing his head as Dick continues the attack on his neck, his tongue pressing in deep as he raises his fingers to massage every spot it comes in contact with. “Tell me more and I won’t stop,” Dick says, before he coarsely licks just beneath his chin, and down again, as Roy shivers along the way. Roy breathes an “Okay,” and quickly says, “I’ve just been,” he stops to gasp as Dick slides a hand down his chest, and gradually towards- “I’ve been stressed,” and that hand continues to trace over his sensitive groin, teasing along the zipper seam of his pants, “I’m just mad, that’s all-”

“Mad at the League,” Dick suggests, as his fingers start to press over the denim, pressing in gentle over the metal zipper plating, just lightly enough to get Roy’s immediate attention as Dick bites into the sensitive spot where his neck meets his shoulder. “Y-yes, but not just them,” Roy clenches his jaw, feeling overwhelmed with arousal, and the insatiable want to stop this _right now_ , and to just pin this boy down onto the floor and-

Dick’s undoing the zipper. _He’s undoing the zipper. Oh God, Oh God-_ “Who else then,” Dick hastily murmurs, between licks over the sore skin he just chewed into with his teeth. “Everyone,” Roy can’t think straight, but he thinks that’s true; he thinks it’s true enough. He can’t really think about it, he can’t really tell because Dick- his fingers… His fingers are rubbing along the outside of his exposed boxers, stroking against his hard-on through the fabric. Dick continues to kiss his neck, in between those kisses, asking “Mad at us, too,” as he proceeds to suck on that spot, to suck in so hard on the skin that it hurts-

Roy’s gasping from the pain, but he says, “Y-yes, but I just felt betrayed-” Dick cuts him off with a kiss to the mouth, and then, “Go on,” as he moves to kiss Roy on the side of his face. Roy looks at him with pained, somewhat saddened eyes, as he’s both concerned and highly aroused at those teasing fingers, still caressing the grooves and pressing in along the head of his cock. Makes it difficult to form words and make sure they’re a good choice, “I felt alone, that’s-” as Dick kisses him quickly, on the mouth and pulls back again, trailing kisses across his face, and towards his eye, “I just felt alone.”

And Dick stops. He ceases everything. He doesn’t withdraw his hand, but he lets it linger there in idle motion as he leans back and looks at Roy directly. His lips wet and shiny, his eyes heavy and… bothered. He looks distressed. Roy upset him somehow.

“But you left _us_ ,” he says in a small voice.

“I- I know,” he shakes his head. “I-I didn’t… think…” he blinks a few times, before he frowns and murmurs the rest, “I didn’t think you’d… let me,” his voice is fragile and quiet, barely held together.

“Roy,” Dick pleads with him, “We didn’t want you to-”

“I know. But I had to,” he says intently, as he’s finally starting to understand, “I just wanted you to-” He raises a hand to the boy’s face, and strokes it gently, sensitively, as if he’s trying to soften his comment somehow, “I wanted you to follow me.” He shakes his head, “I didn’t plan to go a-…” he pauses to put the words together and closes his eyes, “I didn’t plan to go alone.”

Dick’s jaw drops, as he starts to follow him; he’s getting it. He’s piecing it together.

“Your offers were…” and when Roy looks at him again, there’s a somber melancholy in his face, as he shakes his head, “They were to join _you_ , with them.” He nods, just once, “And I wanted you to join _me_.”

Dick’s nodding slowly.

“I wanted you all to come and… be my friends, without… without any of _their_ shit.”

“Roy…”

“But when I left, nobody- nobody even _cared_ until fucking-”

“Roy-”

“Until fucking Ollie said he was worried or something and- and nobody followed me, or even thought I was on the right side- You all just-”

“Roy,” he kisses him again, to slow him down.

And Roy’s looking at him when he pulls back, as he speaks more regularly, his words smoother, “I was against them, and what they did to me, but… I wasn’t against you.” He says somberly, as he looks towards Dick’s hand as his fingers trail across his eyes and he closes them again, “I wanted to be on your team, just not...”

“I understand,” Dick says, kissing him again. And Roy kisses him back, with a forlorn look in his eyes, until-

Below, Dick’s hand starts to move again. Roy murmurs hastily, “Are you sure-”

“Yes,” the prompt reply, “But we’re not done yet.”

-

One of Roy’s hands firmly pressed against his back, the other brushing Dick's disheveled hair back out of his eyes, and his tongue in his mouth. Dick’s tongue caressing his as he pants and breathes against him, grinding their bodies together, pressing his own hard-on against Roy’s; he’s intimidated by his size but strangely excited, and it’s okay, and he’s kissing him so hard right now he can hardly breathe-

Roy’s hands move to grab onto Dick’s ass, holding it firmly in place as he starts to move beneath him, pushing up with his hips and down again, in a slowly rocking motion that creates a teasing, insatiable pleasure, a slow-building heat that sparks every time their cocks touch each other. Clothing removed for the first time, for the _first time_ Dick’s feeling another man’s cock against his own and it’s the most amazing thing in the entire world-

He’s still intimidated by the size but all he can think is that it matches him, it matches this big and strong man to have a rock hard, strong cock-

And he wants it inside him, his ass, his body, anywhere, he doesn’t care, he just wants and wants because this is _not_ enough. So he starts to whine and he presses his body down as much as he can, trying to give Roy the hint that _Hey, I need more attention down there_ and _Please, this isn’t close enough_. And Roy starts to act accordingly, reaching a hand down to stroke his cock, but it’s not because he can read minds; it's because he wants the exact same thing. But he doesn’t care how, he just wants what he wants and that _want_ involves feeling more of Dick’s body, and- Well shit, he wants to slide inside him but he’s scared because this kid is a virgin, and he will probably hurt him if he’s not careful, and he’s feeling a bit rushed and aggressive to take it easy-

But when Dick whispers, a faint murmur against his lips, “Just _fuck_ me,” Roy almost loses it right there, he almost loses his composure and his remaining willpower and he is so damn hard that-

He kisses him on the mouth, firmly, “Give me a minute,” before he crawls out from underneath him, moving to go figure out where the _hell_ he put the lube he had sitting around.

-

Dick’s breathing deeply, face-down pressed against a pillow, legs tucked beneath his ass as Roy slides himself in slowly, slowly- “You okay,” he asks quietly, as he pulls back, and pushes in again, just slightly, slightly-

He can fell Dick's ass tightening around him, oh _God_ it’s so tight, he’s never felt it this tight before, but it’s tight and slick and warm that it takes all of his willpower to not just push right in, to not just forget where he is, and what he’s doing to this delicate, beautiful person and that he doesn’t want to hurt him, and-

“Yes,” Dick responds quietly, his voice suppressed against the pillow.

“Almost there,” Roy pants, shivering as he moves in more, and he starts to feel that warmth surrounding his entire cock, almost to the base-

“ _Go in_ ,” Dick whines, “Just go in.”

“Are you sure-”

“Please,” Dick complains, “I’m so hard,” his voice a desperate shiver.

Roy can’t respond; he just can’t. And when he pushes in his entire length he can feel Dick’s body respond immediately, tensing up as he quickly urges him, “Relax, _relax_ ,” as he pushes in, and slides back just a little, and pushes in again, to gradually get him used to the feeling. Slowly, slowly- gently, gently-

Dick’s breathing deeply, eyes fluttering closed with every slow, careful thrust, as his lip trembles, from an erotic blend of pain and pleasure, his sighs and moans making Roy increasingly more aroused. He normally liked to go fast, but there was something _incredible_ about moving this slow, and feeling Dick’s entire body react, in hearing him react, as his mouth falls open, and a slow, vulnerable gasp echoes out-

Roy increases the speed of his thrusts, just a little, and decides to do something a bit more… suited for Dick as he leans forward, shifting more of his weight onto his arm, his hand digging into the bed as he thrusts and pants to himself, eyeing Dick’s smooth back as it slowly collects with sweat. Roy reaches his other hand around the boy's slender body and with determined and agile fingers, grabs hold of his erect cock, tugging on it gently as Dick elicits a sudden gasp that dissolves into a moan as those fingers start to push and twist at the foreskin around the head.

“You _like_ that,” Roy breathes, with a subtle smile on his face, as Dick continues to shiver with every thrust, his face frozen in a near-permanent state of being overwhelmed and flushed with lust. “Yeah,” he manages between gasps.

Roy’s thrusts are now pushing his body forward with each one as he hits deeper and deeper, causing Dick to cry out loud in a high-pitched yell the first time he makes contact— _hard_ contact—with his prostate. Roy just grins to himself, as he immediately realizes what happened. It can be overwhelming to be stimulated this much at once time; it was the _one_ thing he genuinely missed about being a bottom. But besides that…

Roy is a total top. He loves this feeling, this sensation of your lover beneath you, writhing, gasping, panting, crying and moaning from the feeling in their ass, their cock, their body, _everything_ ; he didn’t grow tired of this, never. And he’d never been more enthralled to see _anyone’s_ reaction than the way Dick was responding, so flushed and desperate he's almost going to cry, as he moans and moans and gasps for air. Roy keeps his fingers busy at his cock, twisting and pressing and twisting and tugging and stroking and stroking as he gradually increases the speed of his thrusts.

And every _single_ time Roy hits his prostate, Dick whines out loud again, loud as if he were going to come, louder and louder with each time he made contact-

And finally he utters a broken, “ _Ugh_ ,” which dissolved into a muffled “ _Oh my God_ ,” as he presses his face into his pillow, his entire body shaking, his legs trembling. Roy notices the distinct relaxing of his body, and the distinctly warm, thick droplets of cum covering his fingers as he traces circles around the boy’s warm cock, teasing the head _especially_ because he knew he was coming. He's gentle and strokes the sensitive, sore cock as it relaxes, and Dick comes down from his orgasm with a slow whine-

And it doesn’t take much more than that, for Roy to lose it. Hands pressing into Dick’s thighs to make sure he doesn’t move, because _Dear God_ it feels amazing, right here, right where he is, exactly where he is inside him.

And once Roy is out completely he's dabbing at his ass with a tissue to clean up the spare lubricant dripping out, content that at _least_ he had used enough.

They compose themselves and Dick is lying flat on his back, still breathing heavily. “Wow,” is all he says, as Roy lays down beside him, with a slow and pleasant sigh. He slides a hand across Dick’s chest and keeps it there for a moment, savoring the warmth of his body, before murmuring a tired question, “Are you okay?”

“Mm,” Dick is even smiling a little, “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Roy’s murmuring-

“Nah, I knew it'd hurt a little,” Dick quickly cuts him off.

Roy gives him an odd look, almost as if he’s slightly bothered, “How'd you know about that?”

Dick grins a little, as a stray blush gathers on his face, “I… I researched.”

Roy just stares in disbelief. He’s watching him relax, and he’s still feeling this unusual sense of calm spreading through him, a sense of peace, so how was he still so-

“Your face is beautiful,” Roy says.

“What?” Dick asks, with a small laugh.

“Your face,” Roy tells him. “I like it.”

“Thanks,” Dick laughs a little more, and with a tired smile, “I like yours too.”

Roy smiles to himself, and pauses. “Wait…”

“What?”

“Did you…” he trails off, hesitant.

“Did I _what_?”

“Did you…” he shakes his head, “No, nevermind.”

“What?” Dick asks, annoyed.

“Did you _research_ … because you…” he trails off again.

Dick asks quietly, “because I like you?”

“Yeah, because-” Roy’s responding cooly, before the realization hits him, and he freezes up again.

Dick laughs, this time more of a small giggle. “I do,” he finally admits, as he reaches over stiffly, with a hand to trace along the contour of Roy’s face, from his eyes to his mouth. Roy kisses his fingers, as Dick smiles at the surprising gesture.

“I like you too,” Roy admits. “I always did.”

“Even when I didn’t follow you…” Dick remarks somberly.

Roy remarks calmly, “I expected that. You value your friends.”

“But I value _you_ , too,” Dick pleads with him. “I value _you_ more than anybody.”

“Mm,” Roy acknowledges, “That could be bad.”

“Why?” Dick asks curiously.

“I’m a lot of work,” as he reaches up, pressing his strong fingers above his soft hand. Keeps it pressed against his face and leans into it, “I don’t want to put you through that.”

“What?” Dick asks.

Roy says nothing.

“No,” Dick says.

“Hmm?”

“No.”

And when Roy turns to look at him, Dick's frowning at him, his lips curled into a sneer, “Don’t you _dare_ do this.”

“What-”

“You can’t run away."

Roy remains still, as Dick manages to crawl closer towards him, their faces only inches apart when he settles back down again and looks directly into his eyes. They study each other’s emotions, and Dick sees that sadness, that incredible _sadness_ and it overwhelms him because he can’t stand it, because he wants it to go away-

“I’m not letting you leave,” he says, with a new insistence. “Not this time.”

“Ro… _Dick_ ,” Roy suggests, “Maybe you should-”

“I’m not letting you leave me,” Dick pleads with him, as he closes his eyes.

“Dick-”

“I like you,” he manages in a faint murmur, “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Roy’s leans in, and kisses Dick on the face, a delicate, soft touch to reassure him. “But if you want to be with your friends…”

“I _can_ be with them,” Dick protests as he stares at him with a sudden determination, those eyes round and shining in the faint light of the room, “but where it counts,” and he reaches out, placing a firm hand on Roy’s chest, right above his heart, “I’m here for you.”

“Why?” Roy asks, as he loses his voice. He can’t understand- Why would this kid even-

“Because we- they,” he shakes his head, “ _I_ hurt you.”

“Dick…”

“And I didn’t even _know_ ,” he frowns, his face contorting in anger, “I didn’t even _notice_.”

“I hid that on purpose,” Roy cautions him.

“But I should have got it,” Dick says, “I should have-”

“ _Shh_ ,” Roy sits up and leans over, hovering above him as he suspends himself up with one arm, “It’s okay now.”

“But Roy-” he stares up at him with wide eyes.

Roy leans in and kisses him, “It’s okay, baby.” And when Dick nods, with a small smile and kisses him back, “It’s okay.”

Joie de Vivre; the simple joy of being alive. Of laughing freely. Of smiling. Of feeling warm for no genuine reason at all. Of feeling happiness that wasn’t fleeting, contentedness that wasn’t temporary. The ability to dismiss pain and suffering in favor of knowing something better was out there. Of knowing something better existed.

Roy didn’t think he’d ever completely understand the way Dick lived. He hadn’t ever believed it was possible.

But when Roy held him in his arms and kissed him, his eyes closing with a pleasant sigh;

Just then, he started to see the light.


End file.
